


Of wickedness and wanting

by whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluffiness abounds, MFMM Year of Quotes, March quote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: Phryne and Jack, in bed, in the afterglow from their first time together. Cuddling and talking and, well, quoting. As one does. At least if there’s a quote challenge in the fandom :)For the quote “I don’t want sunbursts or marble halls, I just want you.” - L. M. Montgomery





	Of wickedness and wanting

“How do you do that?” Phryne asks. Her voice is soft and calm, so when Jack turns to her, he is surprised by her frown.

He looks at the woman lying next to him on the bed. Her hair is slightly mussed. She rests her head on one hand, arm bent, and uses the other to slowly caress his arm and chest, which gives him goose bumps. That isn’t really supposed to happen, is it, not after they caressed each other so thoroughly just a short time ago? Surely, his skin should be used to the honourable Miss Phryne Fisher touching him? It seems it isn’t; perhaps it never will be. He shivers at the thought, and he can see from Phryne’s satisfied smile she thinks it’s because of the magic of her hand. Well, she’s not really mistaken.

She’s as naked as he is, her lipstick long gone but her eyes still beautifully highlighted by her eyeshadow. A crumpled sheet partly obscures her body, but it doesn’t cover her tempting breasts or the leg she has put over his. He reaches for her and lets his fingers caress her face, from her temple over her cheek and then down to her mouth; that well-kissed mouth that has, he reminds himself, just asked him a question.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks. He stills his fingers at the corner of her mouth, so he will be able to feel her mouth forming words when she answers him. 

“How do you do that?” she repeats.

“Do what?” He smiles at her—that open kind of smile he uses so seldom it almost makes his cheeks tingle from the surprise. He decides he adores the feeling of her mouth moving as she talks. 

He moves his hand, caressing her hair, her shoulder, and the top of her back.

“You’re doing it again!” she says and now she smiles brightly at him, before reaching down to press a kiss on his nose.

“I am?” Jack is confused but decides he doesn’t really mind that much. He’s sated and happy, and still not sure it’s entirely true they just made love in her boudoir—like it was the most natural thing in the world. The scent of sex surrounding him and the small ache in his thighs seem to suggest he hasn’t been imagining it. Without thinking, he raises his hand to his nose to smell the lingering scent of her on his skin. 

She leans back on her hand again, his eyes following her movement. 

“That,” she says, boring her eyes into him and pushing a finger into his chest accusingly, “exactly that. That intensity. When you made love to me, when you touched me. It’s like… it’s like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be in the whole world.”

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be than here, Phryne. In the whole universe.” He frowns at her. “Isn’t that how it should be?”

“Is it?” she asks. She hesitates for a second and then rolls her eyes. “My lovers usually feel that way but… just in the moment, I suppose.”

“Your lovers…” Jack knows his voice gives away exactly how fond he is of their existence, but he ploughs on. “If they don’t understand what they have in front of them, they’re fools.” 

She looks at him curiously. “Perhaps they are,” she admits, her eyebrow quirking up as she takes measure of him. “Perhaps I favour fools.”

He lets out a short bark of laughter. The he gazes at her again, his face serious as he leans closer to her to whisper, “I suspect you do.” 

He captures her lips with his, his hand on her neck gently keeping her in place for his devotion. It’s a long, lingering kiss, more longing than heated, and it doesn’t seem to want to end. When it does, she buries her face in his neck, her hand resting against his chest, and she draws in a deep breath. 

“I’m not used to that,” she says. The words are muffled into his skin, but he can make them out. “That intensity. That…”

“Love,” he says, and pulls away so he can watch her face. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it? You’re not used to men actually… loving you. I mean, _really_ loving you.”

She makes the tiniest of nods. “I’m not used to having people in my bed who…”—she flicks her eyes to his to gather his reaction and then looks away again—“who actually know me.”

Jack feels his whole being overflow with emotions; it’s more like drowning than anything he’s ever experienced on dry land. The fragility of this moment, of what she’s placing in his hand, of what she’s allowing him to see. 

”Oh, I know you, Phryne,” he says, his throat hoarse with it all. “‘I know you of old.’”

He sees her mind working out the quote, and when she smiles, it’s in open appreciation.

“Beatrice and Benedick were always my favourites.”

“I bet they were,” he smiles. “Did you ever act in a performance of _Much Ado_?” 

She shakes her head. 

“I think you’d be the perfect Benedick,” he says. Her answering smile is amused.

He catches her hand in his and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it before turning it around to kiss her palm, her fingers, her wrist. There are traces of their earlier activity on her hand, probably remainders of his release, but that doesn’t deter him. 

“I… I love you, Phryne. There is nowhere I’d rather be. There is nothing I want more than to just be here. With you.”

For all of Phryne’s experiences, he can see she’s slightly thrown. He suspects this is not something she usually encounters. This is not her normal modus operandi, and the fear lingers in his stomach that he is too much, too certain, too soon. They’ve only made love once, and he’s pretty sure he’s not the best she’s had—not even by far. But he has to risk it. She looks at him fondly, which seems to be a good start.

“I don’t want sunbursts or marble halls,” she says. “I just want you.” 

He quirks his eyebrow at her, increasing his thumb’s circling on her delicate hand as a way of posing a question. He’s unsure of what she’s said and why, but the sound of it sends currents of hope to his already agitated heart.

“That’s one of my favourite quotes from Anne. Anne of Green Gables. The red-haired Canadian girl?”

He shakes his head; he’s not familiar with the story. She smiles as she pinches the skin on his arm absentmindedly.

“My very favourite quote from her is this: ‘I wouldn’t want to marry anybody who was wicked, but I think I’d like it if he could be wicked and wouldn’t.’”

She quirks her eyebrow so suggestively he has to smile at her. He answers by pulling her by her waist, so she comes to straddle him. The sheet falls to the side.

“I think I can work with that,” he says and caresses her stomach, his knuckles touching the underside of her breasts tentatively.

“That’s a quote, not a marriage proposal, by the way, Inspector,” she says as she looks down on him, her eyes tender, her hand straying down and caressing the trickle of hair under his navel, heading further down. 

“I gathered as much, Miss Fisher,” he answers as she leans down to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Both the quotes from L. M. Montgomery come from one of her books about Anne, _Anne of the Island_. Jack's quote, "I know you of old," is a line of Beatrice's from _Much Ado About Nothing_. There it is used rather accusingly, but Jack turns it into a loving remark.
> 
> Thank you Sarahtoo for being a brilliant and kind beta reader ❤︎


End file.
